


The Missionary Position

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-03
Updated: 2009-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOT what you’re thinking, the Wartooths are missionaries who travel the world trying to “save” people.  It’s 1984, they are preaching in California, and have dragged Toki along, as usual. <br/>Toki meets Pickles.<br/>Then after a while, we’ll jump ahead to 1990, and the rest of the guys.<br/>Note: For the purposes of this fic, Toki was born in 1972. (yeah, go ahead and hate me for that.)<br/>Warnings: minor references to child abuse</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Missionary Position

Toki was excited, even though he couldn’t allow it show. They were going back to Amerika! It had been eight years since they’d preached there last, But he’d been so fascinated by everything he’d seen.  
Toki even remembered that funny clown he got to meet, and wondered what ever happened to him. He’d overheard his parents whispering something about the clown being evil and going to prison not long after they got home, but he knew better than to ask them about it. Questions were not allowed. _Talking_ was not allowed. Oh yeah, Pogo, that was the clown’s name. He was so funny!

Toki was twelve now, not a little kid anymore, and they were on their way to California! Despite always being under his parent’s watch, he loved to travel. Anything was better than home, nothing was ever any good at all here.  
It was dark when they arrived, so he couldn’t see much. A taxi brought them to a motel.  
After a few hours of prayer to cleanse the room of the many evils that had been committed within, his parents declared it safe to finally go to sleep.  
The old lumpy motel bed felt like the highest luxury to Toki, was used to only a thin pad and a blanket. Despite knowing he would have to help them in their mission in the morning, he was happy to be here.

They were in Hollywood, the “Ultimate Den of Evil”. Dressed in their traditional garb, the Reverend and his wife stood on a corner with their Bibles, calling out to passerbys to come and be saved. Yes they could speak English, knowledge of other languages was essential for their mission work.   
Toki had been permitted to wear his regular clothes, and was given a large stack of pamphlets to hand out to everyone that he could. He was trying his hardest to keep his expression blank and his eyes down, but there was just so much color and life all around him! And all the girls in their skimpy little clothes, he’d never seen anyone dressed like that before!  
He looked, he just couldn’t help it, but he did try his best to hide it.

The Reverend had noticed the girls as well, how could he not? Sinful creatures, flaunting their bodies in the streets. He was strong in his faith, but he feared for his son. Toki was getting older now, he might already be old enough to find these women tempting. That was unacceptable, that would not do.  
He soon decided that for the rest of their mission, he and his wife would work alone, and Toki would be left at the motel with a guard. This place was worse than he had feared, and there was no good reason to expose the boy to this much sin. The devil might take him right from under their noses, this was certainly his playground that they were in.   
He made the arrangements that night when they got back to their motel

The next morning, the Reverend announced the new plan. After confirming that his newly hired guard was on duty, he and his wife left for another hard day of attempting to force salvation on the sinful.  
Toki, alone in the room, was very bored. There wasn’t even a tv, that was the first thing his father had demanded removed. And he wasn’t allowed to go outside. This sucked.  
Deciding after a while that sitting in the doorway wouldn’t really be breaking the rules, he opened the door and got comfortable. This was much better, now he could at least watch all the fascinating people go by.

And then he heard something. Somewhere nearby (a few doors down?) somebody was playing a guitar. Not a recording, but real live music. It wasn’t very loud, it seemed that the person was being considerate of the other patrons. Toki listened, wishing he could move closer.  
The sound briefly got louder as a guy with big fluffy red hair came out of a room and headed toward the vending machines. Toki watched him, this must be a real live musician! It seemed that the machine didn’t have whatever he wanted, because after studying it for a minute, he just kicked it and headed back the way he’d come.

Pickles noticed that the kid sitting in the doorway was staring at him. A shy fan perhaps? Always the friendly sort, he decided to wander over and say hi.  
“Hey there kid, what’s yer name?”  
Toki didn’t answer, he was terrified. This person was actually speaking to him, the guard was going to tell his father, he was going to be in _so_ much trouble.   
Pickles tried again, “Oh, raight yer with tha foreign people, aren’t ya? Do ya even understand English?”  
Toki nodded. He was going to hell for even answering, he was sure of it.  
The guard walked over. “Sorry man, no offense, but I’m supposed to keep the kid away from everybody. They’re paying me. But... can I get your autograph?”

It all made sense to Pickles now. Well, mostly anyway. Religious nuts, they must have been the ones who plastered fliers all over his door last night. Poor kid, it had to suck living with them. He grinned at the guard. “Dude, how about this? If ya keep reporting thet tha kid stays in his room an’ whatever he’s s’posed to be doin’, I’ll do better than an autograph, I’ll give ya a backstage pass. Deal?”  
The guard nodded happily, he just _loved_ Snakes N Barrels but he couldn’t even afford a ticket. Backstage was more than he had ever dared to dream of, so it was a deal. He went back to his post.  
Pickles turned back to the kid. “There, all fixed. Now come hang out with us.”

Toki was having trouble believing his good fortune. With a nervous glance at the guard, who merely smiled at him reassuringly, he got up and followed his new friend to the other room.  
There was another fluffy haired guy in there, playing a guitar. “Hey Bullets, knawk it aff fer a while, I found company! What’s yer name anyway kid, ya never said?”  
Toki didn’t know what to do, speaking wasn’t allowed. Fortunately for him, Pickles had some experience with religious types, and had an idea what the problem might be.  
“They don’t let ya tawlk, do they? Ever?” Toki shook his head sadly, miserable.  
“Okie, listen to me here. In this room, there are no rules. Ya can tawlk if ya want ta, yer parents will never find out. So co’mon. I’m Pickles, that’s Bullets, at least tell us yer name.”

He was so unused to speaking that it took a huge effort, but he somehow managed. “Toki.”  
“Alreet, nice ta meet ya. That wasn’t so bad was it?” He grabbed a beer. “Hey, you wanna beer?”  
Toki shook his head, wide eyed and horrified. If he wasn’t going to hell already just for being here, that would definitely do it.  
Pickles just laughed, and got comfortable.  
Bullets stood up and stretched. “Well Pickles, if you’re just going to hang out with some kid, I’m going next door to see what the others are up to.” He wandered out.

Pickles lounged across the bed, drinking his beer and studying the kid. “Hey, how old are you anyway? Ya can jest hold up fingers if ya want.”  
Toki did, showing both hands, then two more fingers. Then he gave a questioning look that Pickles managed to interpret.   
“Twelve? Okie, I was jest wonderin’. An' I’m twenty, since ya asked. Hey, ya go ta school, don’t ya? I mean ya’d have ta talk there, right?”  
Toki sighed. This strange but friendly guy seemed to really want to hear about him. He would have to try to talk, difficult as that would be. “I’s... go school. But has note. No talks... theres... either?”  
“Dude, thet’s pretty fucked up.” He noticed Toki’s look of horror. “Ah man, it’s jest a word... okie look, I’ll try naught ta swear around ya, but no guarantees. It’s kinda a habit.”

Pickles had decided it was easiest to just do most of the talking, he liked to talk anyway. “Ya don’t even know who we are, do ya?” Toki shook his head. “We’re Snakes N Barrels, we’re the hawtest band ‘round raight now. Yer wonderin’ why we stay in a dump like this instead of sahmplace rally nice? They let us git away with more here, it’s jest easier. Hey, ya keep lookin’ at thet guitar, do ya play?”  
Toki looked guilty that his careful glances had been noticed, and shook his head.  
“Ya can play with it if ya want. Go on, yer naught gonna hurt anythin’.”  
Toki stuck both his hands behind his back, staring at the floor.  
Pickles sighed. “Fine, jest hand it ta me then, would ya?”

Toki looked at him in shock. _Touch it_? Really? Pickles held out his hand, waiting.   
Very carefully, treating it as it were made of glass, Toki picked up the guitar and handed it to the man on the bed. Pickles tossed his now empty beer bottle on the floor and started to play. Toki sat on the floor watching and listening, mesmerized.   
After a while, Pickles stopped and held it out to him. “Here take it. See what ya can do.”  
After a moment’s hesitation, Toki accepted it. Positioning his hands like Pickles had, he strummed it gently. Ugh, horrible. He tightened his grip, bearing down on the strings, and tried again. This time the sound was clean.  
After a bit of experimentation, he even managed to almost reproduce some of what Pickles had just played for him.

Pickles was quite surprised actually. “Damn kid, yer a natural, thet wasn’t easy stuff I was showin’ ya. Ya rally never played before?”  
Toki shook his head grinning at the praise.  
“Dude, ya rally need ta git a guitar, ya need ta play. Thet was pretty amazin’ fer yer first try.” He noticed Toki looking at the clock. “Oh, ya gotta go, don’t ya? Well come back when ya can, we’re gonna be here fer a week. I wanna hear ya play sahm more.”  
Toki nodded, he definitely wanted to play more. He’d never felt anything like that before, music seemed to set him free.  
But he had to leave, before it was too late. He hurried back to his room to wait for his parents.

Toki didn’t get to visit Pickles the next day. His father had decreed that this city was in such a sinful state that they must devote an entire day to prayer.  
And so he spent the entire day in the darkened motel room, forced to kneel with his parents and pray for the sins of the city. He really hated prayer days, how they weren’t even allowed to stop for food, for anything.  
But he got through it, he always did. It helped to think that he had a friend just a few doors down that he would probably be able to visit tomorrow.  
He’d never had a friend before.

The next day, after locating his guard, his parents again set out on their mission.   
As soon as they were out of sight, Toki ran down to Pickle’s door and knocked. He heard a faint, “Com’on in.”  
The door wasn’t quite closed, that was weird. Toki pushed it open, and stared in shock. Pickles was sitting on the bed wearing only his underwear. The other one, Bullets, was face down across the foot of the bed. Two women, partially undressed, were also in the room, one on the bed and one on the floor.   
Completely overwhelmed by this sight, Toki quickly backed out of the room and sat down against the wall outside. Maybe his parents were right, maybe everything here really was evil. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

After a minute, Pickles came out, with pants on. “Sahrry ya had ta see thet, we had a little party. I wasn’t rally expectin’ ya so early.” He beat on the door of the next room. “Hey ya douchebags! Let me in, I wanna use yer room!”  
A black haired guy answered the door. “What the fuck, Pickles?”  
“I wanna use yer room.”  
“Use your own room.” From behind him, another voice called, “Tell Pickles to go the fuck away, I ain’t getting up yet.”  
Pickles leaned in the door, “Yer a fuckin’ douchbag, Sammy! Fine, fine, enjoy yer sleep then.”   
The black haired guy planted a hand on Pickles’s chest, shoving him out of the doorway, “Go away.”  
“Screw ya too, Tony!” The door shut. “Ah well, let’s jest take a walk, kid.”

There wasn’t much of anywhere they could go, considering that Pickles was barefoot and shirtless. They ended up on a nearby patch of grass, talking.  
“So I fergat ta ask ya, where are ya from anyway?”  
Toki was getting braver. “Norway.”  
“Wow. Thet’s rally far away. Do ya go ta a laught of places?”  
“Ja. They’s... trying to... makes people not goes to hell.”  
Pickles felt he had to say something. “Look kid, ya may naught wanna hear this, and ya may naught believe me anyway, but I’m still gonna say it. Jest because yer parents believe something doesn’t make it tha only way. Sahmday yer gonna have ta decide if you rally believe what they do, or what’s raight fer ya. Understand?”  
Toki nodded, thinking. If his parents _weren’t_ right, if he _wasn’t_ going to burn in hell forever for every little thing... but what if they _were_ right? It was so confusing.

Pickles nudged him, pointing. The girls were leaving the room, so they got up and headed back over. Back in the room, ignoring Bullets who eventually woke up and wandered out, they played guitar some more. Pickles had retrieved his old Ibanez from the van the night before, and gave it to Toki to play while he played his Les Paul.   
They ordered pizza for lunch. “Dude, you’ve never had _pizza_?!” Pickles was amazed.  
Toki was throughly in love with this country. Music, and pizza, and a friend! He’d never smiled so much in his whole life!  
They played some more. Pickles was amazed at how quickly the kid was picking it up. Watching him play, frowning in concentration, Pickles was reminded of his younger self. He did have a feeling however, that this kid would be better than he could ever be, Toki was just such a natural.  
All too soon it seemed, Toki had to leave. 

The next morning, Pickles found the kid sitting outside his door, arms wrapped tight around his knees. He hadn’t even knocked, and he was crying. “Whoa hey dude, what’s the matter?”  
“We’s leavings tomorrow, I don’ts want to goes! Pickle, can I stays here with you? Please?!”  
“Oh gawd Toki, I can’t. It’s jest naught possible.”  
Toki looked away from him, tears flowing again. “I don’t wants to leave.”  
“Yah I know, I’m sahrry. Look, come in here, I’ve gat sahmthin’ fer ya.” Pickles held out his hand. After a moment Toki took it, and he pulled him to his feet.  
They went into the room.

Pickles had made a decision the other day, after all he didn’t even use it anymore. He handed Toki the Ibanez. “Here, it’s yers. Find a way ta hide it in yer bag, and keep practicin’. It’ll be harder without an amp, but there’s naughthin’ I can do ‘bout that, sahrry.”  
Toki was staring at him in shock. The guitar... was his? To keep? The bag he carried was long enough, it should fit. His parents could never see it, they would destroy it.  
He hugged the guitar to him, smiling at Pickles through his tears.

“It’s jest an old Ibanez, but ya can learn on it. Then sahmday ya can git a rally good giutar like my Gibson.”  
“Thanks you Pickle. Nobody ever gives me anything before.”  
“Here have a beer with me.” Pickles smirked at Toki’s expression. “Com’on, one won’t hurt ya any. And let’s play a little while we can.”  
This time Toki took the beer, making a face as he tasted it. Pickles laughed. “Jest drink it, kid.”  
They drank their beer and played some more. Then Pickles gave Toki a lesson in how to adjust the strings, and how to tune a guitar without an amp. They had lots of extra strings, so he gave him several packs.  
Too soon, Toki was again looking at the clock. “I gots to go, they always comes back early on the last day.” 

Pickles stopped him as he headed for the door with his new guitar. “Toki? I rally wish I could do sahmthing for ya, ya know?”  
“Don’t worry Pickle, I’ll be okays. Besides, they can’ts do anything to me they hasn’t done before.”  
That was really not reassuring at all. “Oh man, dude... fuck. Look, if ya ever come back, ya better look me up, okie?  
“How’s I find you?”  
Pickles grinned. “I’m famous, kid. It shouldn’t be thet hard.”  
Toki smiled at him sadly. “Goodbye Pickle, I won’t forgets you.”  
“Bye Toki. Take care of yerself.”  
Toki left, he had to hide the guitar before they got back.

Pickles wondered just why he cared about the little guy so much. He was just a kid, but he was cool. And he was worried about him, living with those people. Toki had never said anything about it, but Pickles was pretty sure they abused him, at least sometimes.  
But there was nothing he could do, he couldn’t even talk to them. All that would do is get Toki in trouble, and besides, they’d probably think he was the devil or something.

The next morning, there was no chance to go see his friend. Toki hadn’t expected one, but had hoped anyway. After prayers, they headed to the airport. Toki insisted on carrying the biggest bag himself, which made them comment that he was finally learning his place. Really he was just protecting his guitar, but if they wanted to interpret it that way, that was just fine with him.  
As the plane took off he stared out his window, watching until the land was no longer visible.   
Someday, somehow, he would come back.

 

***************  
1990

 

Pickles woke up to the ringing phone. Still half asleep, he answered it. “Ya better have a damn good reason.”  
“Hi Pickle, I cames back! You says to calls yous!” Whoa, he remembered that voice.   
“ _Toki_? No fuckin’ way! Dude, where are ya? I’m comin’ ta get ya.”  
Toki was at the airport. He’d managed to research where Pickles lived, and that’s where he’d headed.  
The airport wasn’t far, and Pickles was soon there. He wondered if he’d even be able to recognize the kid, but his fears vanished as he spotted that once familiar smile.  
“Whoa kid, yer all grown up! Damn, yer taller than me now.”  
“Well Pickle, you was always shorts. It’s goods to see you again!”

Pickles had decided on the way there, “Yer gonna stay with me, okie? Ya gat any luggage?”  
Toki shook his head, “Noes, this is alls.” He pointed to a duffel bag and a guitar case leaning against the wall.  
“Heh, yer still playin’? Ya ever git any good?”  
“Ja I’s pretty good now. Wants to see my guitar?” He opened the case showing off a gleaming Flying V.   
Pickles was impressed. “I see ya took my advice an’ gat a Gibson, thet’s a rally nice one too.”  
They went out to the car. Pickles couldn’t get over just how much the kid had grown up. Well, he wasn’t a kid anymore, but it was hard to stop thinking that way.

Soon there were on their way home.   
“So Pickle, you has a new band?”  
“Yah, we’re jest starting rally, but I think we’re gonna be big. We’re kinda all sharin’ a house, so you’ll meet ‘em soon.”  
“Tells me about them?”  
“Sure. I’m playin’ tha drums now, by tha way. We found this singer, he’s rally young but he’s gat a ton of potential. He’s gat another band raight now, but we’re all tryin’ ta git him ta quit. And we gat a Swedish guitarist who’s rally fast, heh, maybe you’ll git along. And a pretty solid bassist, although he’s usually kinda a dick.”  
“You thinks I can finds a band here too?”  
Pickles considered him. “Ya know, we’ve been tawlkin’ about gittin’ another guitarist. I can git them to let ya try out, but yer gonna have ta be rally good. Ya up for thet?”  
Toki nodded happily. “Ja, I’s good, you’ll see.”

Everyone was awake by the time they got home. They had been wondering where the hell Pickles had run off to with the car, and so when they heard him return they went to look.  
Pickles got out, and some kid with long brown hair and a guitar case. They waited, wondering.  
“Hey guys, this is Toki, he’s an old friend of mine. I told ‘em he could stay with me fer a while.”  
Skwisgaar eyed the guitar case hostilely. “We can’ts be hasing dis, we’s not a babysitters.”  
“Chill out blondie, he’s legal, jest gat a baby face.” He grinned at Toki. “Dude, ya rally do, ya should maybe grow sahm scruff or sahnthin’? Toki, as ya can prob’ly guess, this is Skwisgaar. An’ this is Nat’an, an’ Murderface.”  
Murderface objected, “Hey, why am I lasht?”  
“Dude, yer standin’ on tha end, thet’s all.”  
Toki nodded to them all, “Hi.”

Pickles just happened to have an extra mattress in his room, so Toki set his bag on it. There, he was moved in.  
Nathan banged on the door “Hey Pickles! I’m late, I’m takin’ the car!”  
“Okie Nate!”  
Toki was curious. “Where’s he going anyways?”  
“Ah, he’s jest goin’ ta school. How old do ya think he is?”  
Toki considered, then gave his best guess, “Twenty-four maybes?”  
Pickles laughed. “Nah, but everybody thinks thet. Nate’s only sixteen, he’s still in high school. He wants to quit, but we keep tellin’ ‘em to finish. So far...” Pickles shrugged.  
“Wowee, he’s big.”  
“Yah. He can even drink in bars, nobody ever checks him. Yer gonna need a fake ID or sahnthin’ though, yer jest too cute.”  
Toki made a face, “Fine then, I’ll grow some hairs.”

“Com’on, get ta know tha guys. An’ I wanna hear ya play, at some point.”  
“Hey Pickle? How olds are they anyways? I’s just curious.”  
Pickles smiled. “What, ya worried yer old now? Well Skwisgaar’s about my age, an’ Murderface is a couple years younger I think.”  
They went out to the living room to join them.  
Murderface was insulting a morning talk show while Skwisgaar pretended not to care at all.  
When they sat down, Skwisgaar ignored them, but Murderface smiled.

"Scho you know Picklesh from a long time ago?”  
Toki nodded, glad for some friendliness. “Ja, I comes here six years ago with my parents.”  
Murderface scoffed, “Scho I guessh you’re a Schnakesh N Barrelsh fan?”  
“I don’t knows, I never actually got to hears them. I guess I’s just a Pickle fan.”  
“Pickle fan, ha. Scho you’re gay?”  
Toki seemed a little confused. “Ja I guess so.” Murderface snorted.  
Pickles intervened, “Dude lay aff ‘em, he doesn’t know what thet means.”

Skwisgaar finally tuned to Toki, appraising him. “So hows many bands has you beens in?”  
“Nones yet, but Pickle says I can try outs for this one.”  
Skwisgaar looked incredulous. “Pickle? What de fucks, you can’ts just be bringing in some kid and be lettings him trys out. He probablies can’ts even plays for shits.”  
Toki looked hurt, not expecting to be attacked like that.  
Pickles decided to end this before it got out of hand. “Skwisgaar? Play with ‘em then. Let him prove what he can do.”  
“Fines den, we does dat.” He stalked out, heading towards their makeshift practice room

Pickles turned to Toki. “Dude, I’m sahrry, I was jest tryin’ ta make ‘em shut up.”  
“It’s okays Pickle, I’ll play.”  
“Oh fuck, I jest hope yer as good as ya think ya are. Skwisgaar’s... tha best I’ve ever seen. An’ he’s kinda an asshole about it too.”  
Toki laughed, “Ya, I notices that. Don’t worry Pickle, I’s real good.”  
Murderface stuck his head in. “Hey, are you going to play or are you jusht going to make out?”  
“Shut tha fuck up dude. Com’on Toki.”  
They all joined Skwisgaar.

So far the tall blond had run off everyone who’d even dared make an attempt. However his arrogance was wasted this time, Toki simply ignored him and got out his guitar. He plugged it into the amp that Pickles indicated, and waited.  
Pickles looked at them both. They made a good pair actually, they would look pretty good together on stage. Well, that was getting ahead of things. “Skwisgar, and idea how ya want ta do this?”  
“Ja. He has to plays whatevers I plays. If he cans.”  
“Toki, you cool with thet?”  
Toki nodded, and looked at Skwisgaar expectantly.  
Pickles and Murderface sat down to watch.

Skwisgaar had an evil streak, he liked to start easy and let them build a little confidence before he crushed them. It was more fun that way, watching their confidence slowly die as they struggled to match his increasingly fast riffs, continuing on until they were humiliated and broken before his greatness.   
He started with an easy one, even Pickles could play this. Toki matched him flawlessly.  
Several attempts later, Toki was still hanging in there just fine.   
Pickles was relieved, and becoming amazed. Nobody so far had managed to keep up with Skwisgaar this long. Toki really _was_ good.  
And then Skwisgaar decided to skip to then end, jumping straight into the most intricate part of one of his solos. Then he waited.

Toki finally looked worried. Still, he started playing it. They all listened, hardly daring to breathe.  
And then Toki messed up.   
Skwisgaar slowly smiled.  
To his great surprise, Toki smiled back. “Wowee Skwisgaar, you’s really good! That was awesome!”  
Pickles came over to him, grinning hugely. “Damn Toki, ya rally are good!”  
“Thanks Pickle. So cans I be in the band too?”  
No one seemed to be able to think of a good objection at the moment.  
“Yah kid, I think ya prob’ly can. Wanna beer?”  
“Sures!”

They all went back to the living room to drink a few beers, watch some bad tv, and aggravate each other in a typical “getting to know you” way.  
They’d have to tell Nathan when he got home, but as long as Skwisgaar was okay with it, he wouldn’t object.  
Toki was happy, he was finally where he belonged.


End file.
